Tag Archives: the bloggers

ODNT Goes to San Francisco – Day 1

12:39am (which is really 2:39am according to my internal clock)

The role of ‘weary traveler’ this evening will be played by me. No, it’s not like I crossed the country in a covered wagon fighting disease and rabid wolves in search of gold, but having left my home twelve hours ago for the New Orleans International Airport then passing through the Bermuda Triangle (also known as the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport) on my way to San Francisco has worn these false-sense-of-entitlement, 21st century bones out. Plus, I just settled into my rollaway bed/exercise mat for some much needed sleep, but all I can hear is the tromping around of heavy feet (one in high heels and one in sneakers) of the two people who just returned home to their hardwood-floored residence ten feet above my head. And I’m pretty sure they have a dog, unless the baby talk I’m hearing is being directed at each other. Dear God, please have a dog … and take off your shoes … and go to bed!

I hate the people upstairs.

Anyway … our first flight, the long one from NOLA to Phoenix, was uneventful. I managed to tear through two People magazines (Thanks to Kelly, my neighbor and overseer of all things Milo while we’re gone) and even read some of my book. I’m finally getting to Jenny’s Lawson Let’s Pretend this Never Happened. (Totally captivating so far, Jenny … in a rubbernecking-past-a-traffic-accident, can’t-help-but-smell-the-spoiled-milk-one-more-time kind of way!)

And then we arrived in Phoenix. Our feet had barely left the habitrail tube from the plane when we heard and saw the announcement. Our plane was already delayed two and a half hours. “And,” said the ‘lady’ on the PA system, “don’t go wandering off from the gate because, if you miss your flight, you can’t come crying to me!”

She loves to fly … and it shows.

So, we kept one foot at the gate and pivoted with the other to get such airport delicacies as pizza, sandwiches and (almost) a $5 bottle of Naked Juice. I put it back as soon as the cashier (who apparently is required to do so) alerted me of its price. “Go get a soda instead,” I said to my girl, like any good mother would. And, since eating took all of 15 minutes, I occupied the other two+ hours with electronics (thanks to everyone who played the #PhoenixNameGame on Twitter with me), window shopping the snacks, power walking the 30 feet of carpet area and, of course, alcohol. One glass. One $12 glass of cheap airport Merlot.

Then, we were finally called to board our plane for San Francisco. The flight length was only half as long as the first but they made up for it with double the turbulence. Which for me apparently drowned out the announcement that, because of our air travel inconvenience, the drinks would be free on the flight. Stupid, stupid me and my Diet Coke. Sigh. My girl and I passed the time chatting with the third person in our seating pod. She was a nice person with whom I found myself talking about how the movie When A Stranger Calls scared the crap out of me in no time. I took that as a good sign. And she liked cats so she and my girl also had lots to talk about. We might even be going to a special event as her guests on Friday. (No, I’m not Ferris Bueller or anything, but it could be fun.)

And, before we knew it … and our plane circled the runway three or four times … we landed at San Francisco International Airport, grabbed our bags and all jumped into a limo together.  (Yes, I said limo. Okay, fine. Maybe I AM Ferris Bueller.) We arrived at our condo in the city, we’re FINALLY settled and now I need to go to bed. I think I might just be the only one up. I mean, except for the people upstairs.

Have I mentioned that I hate them?

I’ll check in again tomorrow at some point … after lots and lots of sleep. Oh, but before I go, I was thumbing through Sky Mall when I found this little innovation. What do y’all think? Is Milo up for the task?


It’s 2012. Shouldn’t ALL cats be doing this by now?


You just never know what you’re going to find on the shelves of your own drugstore

First of all, please let me say … Holy Crap, you people have a lot of ideas! I feel great pressure in trying to be clever and pithy (I love that word but it always makes me sound like I have a lisp) around you now that I know how funny YOU are! And I want to thank you for your many, many, many tagline ideas … shared here as as well as on the ODNT Facebook and Twitter pages. I’m so flattered by all the entries and still haven’t quite decided where I’m going to land. Honestly, I’ll probably just grab one of them and toss it to Jenny at TheBloggess.com in the middle of the night. We all need to move on, right?

And speaking of … I was at Walgreen’s recently in search of the best scar prevention aid. Thanks to my selfish and uncooperative lung lining, I now have four incisions … three small and one medium … that I am looking to conceal with some sort of magical elixir that I don’t expect to work. And while I was searching for said snake oil, I came across something pretty bizarre right there in the aisles of my NOT RURAL local drugstore.


Vermont’s Original Bag Balm

It was clearly a skin product, as it was sitting there enjoying the good company of its shelf mates Nivea, Eucerin and even Gold Bond. And although it clearly lists the Dairy Association right there on the front of the tin, I cluelessly picked it up … mistaking its unique packaging for some high-end product that could solve the world’s skin problems.

Until I began reading the other sides of the tin.


“BAG BALM contains lanolin and stays on to provide moisturizing and softening.”

  • Well, your grammar is poor and you really need a noun in there but so far, so good. Tell me more, mysterious green tin.

“For pets, apply BAG BALM liberally to the affected area.”

  • What? Well, that’s weird. Milo wouldn’t want me anywhere near him with this stuff.

“For use on cows, thoroughly wash treated teats and udder with separate towels before each milking.”

  • What the … Oh, my God. What is this stuff? (Resisting urge to hurl at floor, but mesmerized by words on tin)

“To avoid contamination after each milking, bathe the udder with plenty of hot water, strip milk out and dry skin.”

  • Wait. I get it. I’m on Candid Camera right now, huh?

“Apply BAG BALM freely and massage gently with this proven ointment twice daily.”

  • Not a chance.

“This product contains no alcohol.”

  • Yes, but this person would contain it if she was ever crazy enough to try using it.


Its description says it’s for “chapped conditions and superficial abrasions.” It then goes on to say that “after each milking” you (and by that I mean YOU and most certainly not me) must “apply thoroughly and allow coating to remain on surface.” And there’s caution against using it on “deep puncture wounds.”

Yeah, not to worry, BAG BALM. You lost me at thoroughly washing the “treated teats.”

BAG BALM – Moisturizing People, Pets and Cattle since 1899

The 10-ounce tin is only $8.99. And seriously … that’s a steal.